Honeyed Pasture we will laugh in the end

Backdated about a month to directly follow this thread. @Tetsubō ♥ Crappy post. ;-; I suck at writing anymore, haha.

The woman snarled at her trackers, uttering words that Szymon completely disregarded; the beat of blood was in his ears as he tried to still his path. From this vantage point he could clearly smell her stinking wounds, and although they reeked of infection the venom must have been something she ingested. Her fur itself did not carry the slick scent of venom, whether burningly acid or sickeningly sweet, and he judged it safe to nip harshly at her heels to keep her sodden hide moving. She smelled of purulent material and excrement, and her plaintive cries of exhaustion and pain as she sought to tuck her wounded limb against her chest sickened him. Now and again the urge to circle around and check the perimeter for ambush nagged at him — on a whim, he cast a pointed glance at the war weapon. He wished to drive her away from the bay and away from Donnelaith. A deep rumble bade Tetsubo to stay with the bedraggled beast as Szymon began to make a wide, arcing circle to see what he could find. Then perhaps he would circle back and Tetsubo could check his work, so to speak — the two of them could take turns in this way, and ensure that she had not been followed.